


eyes wide, and painfully open

by sulkysheep



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, M/M, Spock is sad, THIS IS DEPRESSING, TOS, The City on the Edge of Forever, Unrequited Love, i think hehe, jim is sad, jk im sure jim does love spock but spock is just really really sad, season one, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sulkysheep/pseuds/sulkysheep
Summary: Spock reflects on Jim’s relationship with Edith Keeler, and by extension, his own relationship with Jim.
Relationships: Edith Keeler/James T. Kirk, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	eyes wide, and painfully open

Working within any position in Starfleet, whatever the rank or place of deployment, left much to be desired in terms of free time. Or, that is, according to Spock’s human colleagues. He finds his busy schedule to be a non-issue, and he says as much when the topic comes up. Either way, it is an indisputable fact that despite potential monotony when dealing with assignments below the class of the Enterprise, there is never a moment to be spared elsewhere other than the work meant to be done at that time.

That is why, on Earth, Spock is at a loss.

He spends his days in a sedated state. His biology, adapted to that of a desert climate, struggles to self-regulate against the frigid environment he finds himself in. Without the parts he requires, there is nothing to be done but sit idle.

His idle hands lead to idle thoughts. Distantly, his mind races like he is still orbiting hundreds of thousands of miles above. His hands shake with the temperature, his fingers sore from the blood his body forcefully pushed into his extremities. Even if he had what he needed, the possibility that he would be able to continue on…

He does not dwell on probabilities, nor does he think about the unthinkable eternity he could spend here, stuck in an alien world. Moving closer to the center of the room, he seeks warmth, away from the scarcely-insulated walls of the apartment that barely serve as barriers against the elements. It is only then that he meditates. 

The time he keeps in his mind is different from the world outside. Red sands skip across his cheek, a scathing scratch along his skin with the harsh breaths of the wind. It is from here he should draw his strength. 

He gazes up into the burning sky only to find the ceiling of the captain’s quarters, identical to his own save from the softness emanating from the ceiling lights. It is only then that he feels warm, in the oasis of space. The figure in the corner of his eye glows. The space surrounding him burns, but he doesn’t boil under the heat. He falls back into the familiarity, the comfort, soothed by hands that now rest upon his face. Unquestioningly, he knows. That same grip has held him before. He gathers under the touch, as it is from here that he draws his strength.

When he and the captain are back aboard, they are once again busy. Dr. McCoy monitors them both, due to the prolonged period they had spent in the past without modern conveniences to treat them. The ship that was once mildly cold to Spock, is now welcoming.  
After the third day back with no sign of the captain, Spock pays the ship’s chief medical officer a visit.

“Listen, Spock. he’s a warm-blooded man, who fell for a warm-blooded woman. I’d say he’s doing remarkably well for having witnessed what he did,” is what Dr. McCoy tells him. 

He tells Spock as if he, too, wasn’t there. As if he had not seen the secretive slow dances of their bodies, the hallway sojourns that had Miss Keeler meticulously coming up with excuses to make those meetings socially acceptable. But Spock knew. He saw the smiles she had put on Jim’s face. It was more than acceptable to him. 

Spock was there. In fact, he was more than a bystander in the wreck. He was painfully present for each second, the sole and unwilling audience member of every moment, forced to participate. Still, he loathed himself for how well he could recall all of it; he had kept his eyes wide open every time, listening for the giggles and conversations down the steps.

“I understand,” he says to Dr. McCoy.

But when Spock is alone, in his quarters, his skin pebbles. He is glad he has not shared his plight with anyone. The pity he feels for himself is enough. 

Terribly, he remains awake. Next to his cabin, the room is empty, because the captain continues to sleep in the sick bay. But, it is almost as if sometimes, intermittently, he hears his captain through the walls. Jim’s voice echoes in his head, as if Spock were the one on the steps, the one that made him fall so hard he can barely scrape himself together. Almost as if Spock were the reasons for the smiles that remained, the curves of Jim’s lips captivating him so much that he could forget that he wasn’t the reason why Jim felt so radiantly happy.

it is then that the self-hatred pours in, the air of his room freezing his chest from the inside. Jim is his friend. Anything that makes Spock’s friend, his only friend, happy, should be enough to make him happy.

But in his lethargic state, all Spock can dream of is being Miss Keeler, not just Jim’s loyal friend. He dreams about secret sojourns on observation deck 3, seeing the slant of Jim’s gleaming eyes in the windows of stars flying by. His figure glows in Spock’s mind, his warmth a comforting reminder of Spock’s isolation, his loneliness. His futile reach for happiness.

After the fifth day, the captain returns to the bridge. There is a shadow in his eyes, the imprint that Miss Keeler had left. A sign that she had once had everything that Spock has ever painfully, desperately wanted. 

But Spock is the captain’s loyal friend. His first officer, and ally. So he keeps his eyes wide, and painfully open.


End file.
